


Single-Minded

by Trojie



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-15
Updated: 2010-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 02:56:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <i>kinkme merlin</i> prompt <i>'Naked Merlin getting double-teamed by mostly-dressed Arthur and Lancelot'</i> Fairly literally interpreted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Single-Minded

Merlin is knackered. He's been knackered before, it's not new - knackered from too much laundry and castle stairs, or from trailing Arthur reluctantly through unicorn-infested forests, or from wresting the power of life and death itself from mental sorceresses and riding hundreds of miles in a day. This is a different kind of knackered. One that makes him blush to think about. And he really kind of likes it, and that makes him blush even more.

It's confusing.

They keep _ambushing_ him, is the thing. They (yes they, Arthur and Lancelot, and it's kind of funny given the whole 'Arthur or Lancelot, which would you rather?' game he used to play with Gwen but the less said about that the better), _they_ come in from training the knights and they're all pent-up aggression and in-jokes and they've made _plans_, and they always involve hopeless acrobatics, and generally, Merlin being manhandled.

He fights back, of course, but that only makes them more insufferable, because they like it, they grin wickedly at each other and needle him more and more.

He can't admit he enjoys it, of course. He can't admit that after a long day of running up and down stairs and washing things and cleaning out the leech tank and ducking Lady Eleanor, who likes to pinch his arse, and doing all the other chores that he's managed to land for himself, it's quite nice to duck into Arthur's quarters and see two sets of eyes, one brown and one blue, staring at him calculatingly, and to be treated like he's something precious.

He doesn't expect it tonight though. He's been mucking out the horses, and he knows he stinks, and with the midsummer tournament coming up, Arthur and Lancelot have been pushing the men hard so that they all make a good showing when the knights from Cendred and Bayard's kingdoms, and everywhere else, come to try and show them up. Days like this, Lancelot usually retires to his own quarters, and after a long day's training Arthur always wants a bath, so Merlin gets one of the chambermaids to have one sent up to Arthur's chambers, and goes instead to his own little room to try and make himself look a bit less like he's dressed in horsehair and straw before fronting up to Arthur with supper.

It's too much trouble to try and juggle the dishes all onto one arm, and he'll only end up dropping something if he tries anyway, so Merlin doesn't bother to knock, just pushes the door open with one hip and wanders in.

'Hello, Merlin,' says Arthur, self-satisfied humour in his tone, Merlin twists his head to try and spot him, but before he does he hears the distinctive sound of the bar being put across the door and then someone has their nose in his hair and their hands on his hips.

They don't even let him get as far as the table - the dishes he's carrying are removed from his protesting grip and put on the sideboard by Lancelot while Arthur deals to his belt.

'He smells,' Arthur remarks blandly to Lancelot.

'I do not!' Merlin retorts, but he's ignored, bar a smirk.

'He probably wants a bath,' Lancelot says to Arthur, but his eyes and his smile are on Merlin. And yes, a bath would actually kind of be heavenly right now, he doesn't get them very often and has to make do with a bucket and a washcloth most weeks.

'I can undress myself, you know,' he says, swatting at Arthur's hands. Arthur is pushing him towards the screen that hides the bath even as Merlin unsuccessfully tries to get rid of him.

'Barely,' Arthur says hotly in Merlin's ear, 'and anyway, this is _much_ more entertaining,' he adds. Merlin's trousers choose to descend to earth at that moment, and Arthur slaps him on the rump like he's a chambermaid or something, which causes him to trip over the fallen trousers, and Arthur has to catch him, and it's altogether an amazing display of what an absolute, insufferable _arse_ Arthur can be. If it weren't for Lancelot, Merlin thinks vengefully, as the shirt gets pulled up over his head and he stumbles _again_, he wouldn't be doing this at all.

Arthur spins him around and presses their foreheads together, smiling, and Merlin feels himself melt, just that little bit, and okay, maybe Arthur isn't all bad -

And then Arthur pushes him backwards into Lancelot's arms and picks him up by the knees and all of a sudden Merlin and seven buckets of water make hurried and exciteable contact. Much of the water ends up on the floor. Fortunately most of Merlin ends up in the tub, although there are a few undecided moments regarding shins and wrists - and then ...

'Are you _washing_ me?' Merlin splutters, getting a mouthful of soap for his trouble.

'Don't you like it?' Lancelot asks. He's got his sleeves pushed up over his elbows, and it's ridiculous to be turned on by a man's forearms but there you are, not helped by the very dedicated attention he's paying Merlin's feet, just enough pressure not to be ticklish but stroking and smoothing and soaping, all up the tendons and down between the toes.

Merlin feels a purr fighting its way out of his throat, this is far too good, it's like a blowjob for your feet, and he was going to splash Lancelot but he can't quite bring himself to. It's hard to feel vengeful against someone _making love to your feet_ and smiling.

'Of course he likes it,' says Arthur from behind Merlin's skull, where his fingers are giving Merlin shivers as they rub the soap into his scalp, callouses scratching just right, then digging into his neck and working out all the knots. It's amazing, but Arthur's tone is enough to have Merlin reaching for a handful of sudsy water to throw at him.

'Oh no you don't,' Arthur says, grabbing his wrist under the water and then hauling him up again. Lancelot stands up and looks past Merlin to Arthur, lifting an eyebrow. Arthur rolls his eyes and turns away, and Merlin doesn't much care what he does beyond that because Lancelot tugs Merlin to the edge of the tub and kisses him, and if Merlin weren't hard before he most certaiinly is now.

Lancelot's kisses are warm and gentle and soft and tantalising and absolutely, totally seductive. Merlin forgets basically everything around him trying to get Lancelot to go deeper, but the other man just laughs against Merlin's mouth and keeps things light and distracting.

'Oi, lovebirds,' Arthur says, trying for irritated but coming across fond, and just as Merlin cracks an eyelid he's hit in the head with a towel, which he has to scramble to retrieve before it hits the water. Lancelot gives him a final peck and then saunters off to God-knows-where. Merlin starts towelling his hair only to have the towel taken off him.

'Are you honestly going to do everything for me?' he asks in exasperation as Arthur starts to dry him off, paying particular and, Merlin would say excessive, attention to certain areas of Merlin's body. He can hear Lancelot laughing from the other end of the room.

'You're always complaining about waiting on me hand and foot,' Arthur points out. 'I thought you'd appreciate the change.'

'I'd appreciate not being treated like a _girl_,' Merlin retorts, snatching the towel back and wrapping it around himself. He stomps out of the bath, not caring about the wet footprints he's making. Arthur grabs him around the waist and spins him around and _this_, okay, this is one of the things that makes Arthur tolerable - he kisses just right, just ... sweeping Merlin in close and demanding and prattish and ... everything Merlin wants, which is face-reddeningly embarrassing but he _likes_ this, with Arthur in control and taking just what he wants, because he makes it so good, so addictive.

And then Arthur's hand slips down and takes hold of Merlin, stroking roughly, and Arthur shoves him back towards the bed, growling happily against his mouth 'I think we can manage that.'

Lancelot's on the bed, he helps Arthur haul Merlin onto it, onto his knees between them, and they're both pressed in so close their clothes are rubbbing Merlin's tender, damp skin raw. He goes to fumble at Arthur's waistband and has his fingers slapped away.

'Oh no, you don't,' Lancelot says in his ear. 'No touching,' and he huffs a hot laugh that has Merlin squirming as Lancelot's fingers seek and find their way into him, sopping with oil and gentle and careful, while Arthur works Merlin over with still-wet hands.

They won't let him touch, they won't let him _help_, and Merlin would wonder what the hell they have in store but he's more occupied with what the hell to do with his _hands_ until Arthur ducks and takes Merlin into his mouth and then all Merlin can do is wind his fingers into his own hair and tug wildly to distract himself from the fact that he really can't lay hold of Arthur like this.

Lancelot laughs again, twisting his fingers up harder, and Merlin groans.

'One of these days,' he pants, 'I'm going to get you for this,' and Arthur pulls himself up and laughs as well.

'Oh please,' he says, his mouth obscene in all the right ways. 'You're helpless against us,' and just to prove it he and Lancelot tip Merlin back into the pillows.

While Merlin flails and tries to push himself up again, Lancelot leans down and licks, his eyes on Arthur, and Arthur grins, and does the same, and _God_ they're _both_ at it now, both mouthing him and taking turns to kiss and lap at him, and then kiss each other-

Arthur suddenly pulls Lancelot up to meet him and kisses him properly, dragging a strangled groan from the other knight, and Merlin groans in sympathy, because a) he knows what that's like and b) the view is not exactly unappealing. Merlin's hand goes between his legs and that breaks the spell, because they're immediately one either side of him, still frustratingly overdressed and hands everywhere. And this time they're not letting up, not stopping, they've rolled him onto his side, one in front and one behind, stroking and pushing and drawing every sound, every inch and ounce of pleasure they can out of Merlin, just because they can, just because they're trained - _God_ \- they're trained to take men apart and they can't _not_, even like this, even when the arena is so far removed from where they learnt their craft as boys, they don't know any other way to be with him, or with each other. They can't _court_, they can't woo or seduce or any of the other thousand little ways to inveigle themselves into a woman's affections; their only experience of men's desires, men's bodies, is sating their own lust and defeating an opponent.

Before long Merlin is a mess, fighting to get a hand on either of them, on someone, on flesh and sinew somehow, but they're too adept at block and guard and parry and riposte, oh, definitely riposte, and he's sobbing with each breath, can't get enough air, wanting so badly, and Arthur kisses him again, fierce, and Lancelot murmurs nonsense in his ear, their fingers entwined around him and within him, and Merlin finally gives in to it all, gives in to them.


End file.
